Dreams and Nightmares
by ncfan
Summary: Maglor almost envied what must haunt the twins' dreams.


This is another installment in 'The Care and Feeding of Partly Human Children.'

I own nothing.

* * *

The rain finally stopped earlier today, and there were two little boys who were very happy to see the Sun again. To watch them playing around, splashing in puddles and climbing the tree in the courtyard put Maglor in mind of his own brothers and how they would play when storms in Valinor finally ceased; there was still the same amount of light, as dark clouds could not obscure Laurelin and Telperion as they could the Sun and Moon.

It had occurred to Maglor that perhaps he shouldn't let Elros and Elrond climb about on the oak tree. That particular tree had been planted over the grave of Denethor, the last (and to date, only) King of the Laiquendi, who had fallen here long before the Sons of Fëanor ventured so far south. He was, after all, planning to journey to one of the Nandorin settlements tomorrow morning to see if they could pick up any more grain for planting and re-establish trade, and if they ever got visitors from one of the settlements in Ossiriand, it probably wouldn't do for them to see two small children clambering about in the branches of the tree that was planted over the grave of their fallen King. But then, Maglor remembered that the Nandor, especially the Nandor of the settlement he was visiting, tended to take a highly liberal attitude towards such things (he'd once seen three young children, siblings all, climbing in a tree that a particular tribe was supposed to mark as sacred), and decided not to bother.

_They were so happy earlier today. _Elros twitched a bit in his sleep, brow creased, and Maglor leaned over to smooth his hair out of his face, his own expression troubled. _What brought this on?_

Maglor had been alive long enough and dealt with younger siblings often enough to know that nightmares and dark dreams were unavoidable. In a day and Age such as this one, it seemed more unusual that two children born into ruin would _not _be beset with nightmares. All was quiet tonight, no rain, no thunder nor lightning, not even the brisk wind, but that barely seemed to make a difference. The twins still found themselves plagued by nightmares, and tonight, when it was time for them to be put to bed, they would settle for nothing less than being allowed to sleep with him.

Maglor edged his chair closer to the window, as quietly as he could manage so that the scraping of wood over stone would not awaken either of the children sleeping fitfully in the great bed. His eyes fell on the two of them, Elros and Elrond cocooned in the bed sheets and the quilt, and he sighed.

How had Nerdanel dealt with nightmares as her sons were assailed by them? Maglor half-shut his eyes, the better to remember; eyes half-shut, the flame burning in the lamp looked almost the same as the shade of her hair, catching Laurelin's light. Nerdanel would come and reassure them that they were perfectly safe. At times, she would sing to them, and though her voice was rough and unschooled, Maglor still remembered it as one of the most reassuring sounds he knew.

Fëanor would scoop them up and put them into the bed he and Nerdanel shared. _Have no fear. Even if there are monsters lurking outside, I will never let them touch you. _Maglor's eyes snapped open; he stared past the glass in the window, past the town of Amon Ereb, past the wind-swept plains beyond. Fëanor had become the very sort of creature his children feared meeting in their dreams, in the end. Fëanor's deeds, Maglor's done at his best and on his own initiative, the Oath…

_Oh, great and terrible longing. I hear your voice, even now, even here. Will you ever be still?_

These were the things that kept Maglor up at night.

There was the specter of things that could have been, and never would be, the shadow of the other who had once slept in this bed. Maglor imagined how Ilmanis might have comforted two boys afraid to sleep until his head ached and his heart was splitting. All that could be was lost, and what was now was merely a pale shadow of that bright future he'd once dreamed of.

And how did Elwing react, when her boys came to her with their fears? Eärendil had been on the sea far more often than not during the short years Elrond and Elros had dwelled in Sirion, so it would have been to their mother that they went. How did she cope with that?

There was, Maglor supposed, at least one thing he had in common with Elwing the White, beyond a Silmaril and the two boys sleeping in his bed. Maglor could easily imagine that Elwing had given comfort to her children while feeling none herself. He could easily imagine that while she soothed her sons' fears, her own heart was filled with uncertainty and doubt. How could it be otherwise?

Maglor sighed again. Tomorrow, he would be leaving, and would likely be gone at least a week, if the weather remained fair. He hoped that Maedhros would be able to handle the twins by himself, and not for the first time wished that Caranthir was still alive—Caranthir had always gotten on remarkably well with the residents of Ossiriand; it probably helped that he'd married one.

He had absolutely no guarantee that they would get what they needed from this trip; he and Maedhros really had so little left to trade, and there was every possibility that the settlement, one of the few who still consented to do trade with the Sons of Fëanor after the sack of Menegroth, would decide that it no longer wished to do trade with those responsible for the sack of Sirion. He could easily come back with nothing, and what then would they do for food? They had to run out of dried, cured and salted provisions eventually, and an Elf could not live on meat alone.

_I almost envy what must haunt your dreams, little ones, _Maglor thought as he slid down onto the patch of bed not already occupied by a child. _Would that it would be all that haunted my dreams._

Maglor leaned over to put out the flame in the lamp, and the room was flooded in darkness.

* * *

Laiquendi—Green-Elves (singular: Laiquendë) (Quenya)


End file.
